On my mother…

She loves me…she loves me not.

I used to tell her we’re all we got.

Then she disowned my love,

She could no longer fit the glove that once kept us warm.

She viewed me as a disgrace;

She’d wish she could erase,

Every time I see her, I see it written over her face.

And I ask myself why?

And yet I still don’t understand how you let the concept of loving me be dictated by the thoughts of a man.

Reading from unbroken promises,

Scriptures that speak against me,

Oh I wonder if she’ll ever love me for me.

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